Mr. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. ‘You said it. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. I’m sorry to disappoint you. .
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